I see that, but it’s not quite the whole picture. What you don’t see is that the fence is about to fall down, and it’s been that way for years. You don’t see the power lines and drive-through coffee place behind our house, along with the sound of the traffic on a busy street. You don’t see me, laying on the couch, binge-watching Arrested Development because I was so worn out from my seven mile hike that morning. Yes, I’m proud of the “seven mile” part of that, but the rest could all be cut.

So that’s what I did. I saw this potential photo out the back door and went out and framed it the way I wanted to see it.

I do that a lot. I focus in on what I do want to see, the good stuff, and ignore the rest. It helps me in creating photographs, because I’m always evaluating what should be in and out of the frame. The more I can get rid of distractions or unneeded elements, the better the photograph. It helps me in life too, because I focus on the many things I really want to do and the few things that need to be done regardless, and release the stuff that doesn’t really matter. The fence is falling down? OK. It hasn’t fallen down yet. It’s not a danger to people or property. So I’m not going to worry about it. When it does fall down, we’ll take care of it. It’s out of my mind otherwise.

Some might call this denial, or turning a blind eye to reality.

I call it a philosophy.

You see, I believe you can focus on the good stuff, and be happy, or you can dwell on the bad stuff, and be forever depressed. It’s all in where you choose to look, and what you choose to see. We always have choices. Sometimes I can’t help but see the bad stuff, and then I still have a couple of choices to make: Does it need to be dealt with, and does it need to be dealt with NOW? Sometimes, the answer is, Yeah, I need to deal with this now. But many times, the answer is: It’s not so important right now. Or even, it’s not so important ever.

This doesn’t mean I don’t see or deal with real, hard, painful, messy things, ever. I do… when it’s important. But it doesn’t have to be all the time. It doesn’t have to be “just because” it’s there. It doesn’t have to be a way of life, always down in the muck. Thinking, If I just do this one last, hard thing, I will be happy. That doesn’t work.

You have to be happy first, regardless of all of the muck. And to be happy, for me, often means ignoring the muck. I watched this great TED talk this week, which helped me realize my approach to life is not just denial but a healthy outlook. Take a quick watch – it’s 12 enjoyable, laugh-filled minutes:

Aha, I thought. I’ve shifted the way I frame the world over the last few years, allowing myself to focus on the positive, and it explains a few things. It explains why I’ve been happy at my job, while other people around me are swirling in the worry and stress of what might happen. It explains why I was so much happier when I stopped watching the news a few years ago. It even may explain why my art comes out the way it does – usually positive and showing the beautiful in the world around me – even when there is a fence falling down, or power lines, or a traffic-filled street. I just cut out the stuff I don’t want to see.

You might think I’m lucky, that this is just naturally the way I’m wired. I think that is partly true, but it’s also true that I’m wired for achievement. For accomplishment. For seeing the work that needs to be done and making sure I do the work first, check it off my list, and then focus elsewhere. It’s taken a conscious effort on my part to shift toward focusing on the good stuff first, and ignoring the muck.

I want to see the good stuff, so that’s what I choose to look for. That’s what I frame with my camera, that’s what I write on the blog, that’s what I share with you.

And what you don’t see? That stuff… it doesn’t even matter.

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I take a break from my regular blog topics to say a few words in memory of our dear, sweet golden retriever Tasha who left this world yesterday in the arms of her second family in Colorado.

This was not a surprise, she was almost 14 years old and was having more and more physical problems. One of the hardest things we had to do when we came to Italy was leave her behind, knowing that she might not be there when we got back. We were all so very blessed that Patrick’s sister and her family wanted her to come live with them and be part of their family in Colorado.

Let me tell you a little bit about Tasha… Everyone loved Tasha. She was the most gentle soul you would ever meet. Always happy to be there for love and support, never demanding. Never once hurt or threatened another creature, even when annoyed by a toddler or a kitten or an alpha dog. She would just look at us with those big brown eyes that seemed to say “Seriously?” and stoically bear whatever life threw at her. Tasha patiently taught me to like dogs, and she was the first dog I ever truly loved. She was our first baby, coming to us as a 6 weeks old puppy in 1996, 5 years before our son Brandon was born.

Sometimes we might think that we are doing a favor to the animals in our life, by taking them in and loving and caring for them. That we are giving them a home. But really, they are the ones who are doing us the favor. They become part of our hearts, they make our home a home. Our animal companions are the ones who show us what unconditional love truly is. They teach us compassion. And they teach us how to grieve when they go, since their lives are so much shorter than ours.

So, Tasha I just want to thank you. For all that you gave to me, all that you taught me.

And Heather, Rob and Dylan, thank you so much for bringing Tasha into your home and loving her as much as we did for the last year and a half. For so amazingly dealing with the difficult end of her days when we weren’t there. You got the hardest part. Tasha was so lucky to have had two families in her life that loved her so much. We will be forever grateful to you.

Today I created this photo story to honor Tasha’s life. I wish I had her puppy photos, our canoe dog photos, more photos from her time in Colorado… but this is what I have today and now is when I need to do this. For me. For her. For anyone who knew her.

I take a break from my regular blog topics to say a few words in memory of our dear, sweet golden retriever Tasha who left this world yesterday in the arms of her second family in Colorado.

This was not a surprise, she was almost 14 years old and was having more and more physical problems. One of the hardest things we had to do when we came to Italy was leave her behind, knowing that she might not be there when we got back. We were all so very blessed that Patrick’s sister and her family wanted her to come live with them and be part of their family in Colorado.

Let me tell you a little bit about Tasha… Everyone loved Tasha. She was the most gentle soul you would ever meet. Always happy to be there for love and support, never demanding. Never once hurt or threatened another creature, even when annoyed by a toddler or a kitten or an alpha dog. She would just look at us with those big brown eyes that seemed to say “Seriously?” and stoically bear whatever life threw at her. Tasha patiently taught me to like dogs, and she was the first dog I ever truly loved. She was our first baby, coming to us as a 6 weeks old puppy in 1996, 5 years before our son Brandon was born.

Sometimes we might think that we are doing a favor to the animals in our life, by taking them in and loving and caring for them. That we are giving them a home. But really, they are the ones who are doing us the favor. They become part of our hearts, they make our home a home. Our animal companions are the ones who show us what unconditional love truly is. They teach us compassion. And they teach us how to grieve when they go, since their lives are so much shorter than ours.

So, Tasha I just want to thank you. For all that you gave to me, all that you taught me.

And Heather, Rob and Dylan, thank you so much for bringing Tasha into your home and loving her as much as we did for the last year and a half. For so amazingly dealing with the difficult end of her days when we weren’t there. You got the hardest part. Tasha was so lucky to have had two families in her life that loved her so much. We will be forever grateful to you.

Today I created this photo story to honor Tasha’s life. I wish I had her puppy photos, our canoe dog photos, more photos from her time in Colorado… but this is what I have today and now is when I need to do this. For me. For her. For anyone who knew her.